


Conjuring Up Disaster

by orderlychaos



Series: The Adventures of Wizard!Clint [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Demons, Fluff, M/M, Non-SHIELD AU, Ridiculousness, magical au, not quite Harry Dresden, the truth comes out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>What did one do with an eight foot tall daemon?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>As far as Clint Barton was concerned, you sent it back from whence it came.  It was about the only thing you could do with eight foot daemons.  Particularly as said daemon had just crashed through Clint’s apartment door, hitting his wards with a blast of magic.  A really big blast.  Clint was still seeing spots and he was pretty sure his skin was about to crawl off his body.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Not the best way to wake up.  It was probably another fucking Wednesday.</em>
</p>
<p>Clint Barton isn't having the best week.  First there's a demon he has to vanquish.  Then he sort of forgets a date with Phil, and the next thing he knows is Phil has met his imp.  Luckily for Clint, things get better from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conjuring Up Disaster

_Tao of Hawkeye #3:  Aww, daemon, no._

 

What did one do with an eight foot tall daemon?

As far as Clint Barton was concerned, you sent it back from whence it came.  It was about the only thing you could do with eight foot daemons.  Particularly as said daemon had just crashed through Clint’s apartment door, hitting his wards with a blast of magic.  A really big blast.  Clint was still seeing spots and he was pretty sure his skin was about to crawl off his body.

Not the best way to wake up.  It was probably another fucking Wednesday.

Clint was going to have a long, hard look at how a creature from Hell had ended up in his living room, and, you know, figure out how to strengthen his wards _so this never happened again_.  He’d get on that, just as soon as he actually vanquished the thing.  Possibly with a note pinned to the daemon’s forehead seriously questioning the parentage of the moron that had summoned it.  Sadly, Clint didn’t have a pen, mostly because the daemon was _trying to eat him_.

Diving behind his couch, Clint took cursed loudly in a mixture of English, Latin and Russian.  The daemon’s claws ripped through the air where he’d just been standing, close enough that Clint could feel a breeze.  Swearing again didn’t make Clint feel any better, or save his couch, but it was better than whimpering like he wanted to.  “I liked that couch!” he snapped at the daemon.  “Why don’t you stop tearing up my apartment before I blast you into next week?”

The daemon, of course, didn’t listen.  Daemons never did.

The daemon kicked the couch hard enough that Clint heard something crack.  Deciding now was a good time to move, Clint scrambled behind an old oak cabinet that held some of his spell ingredients.  He winced at the splintering crash as the daemon’s claws tore right through the top, scattering everything inside.  Aww, shit, was that where Clint had stashed his supplies of stardust?  And was that one of his comics?

“Oh, _now_ you’re going to die,” Clint muttered.

“Daemon can’t die!  Daemon invincible!  Daemon going to eat little magic man,” the daemon roared.

Well, that was disturbing on several levels.

Still cursing in his head, Clint peeked out from behind the half-demolished cabinet and waited for his chance.  By nature, daemons were a distractible lot, and Clint didn’t have to wait long.  It helped that Jasper chose that moment to dive through the kitchen doorway.  He was armed with a large supply of toothpicks and a bow Clint had once jokingly made him out of ice cream sticks and a rubber band.  The daemon bellowed and swiped at Jasper with its claws, and Clint’s heart leaped into his throat.  Seizing his chance, Clint raced towards his bedroom, and more importantly, his potions.  Even for Clint, with as much raw magic as he could command, it took more than mastery of the elements to send a daemon back to its dimension.

“Where little magic man go?” the daemon growled, finally noticing Clint had fled.  “Me want to eat little magic man!”

“Hurry!” Jasper said, darting into the bedroom.  “I think we made it angry.”

“I’m not going slowly on purpose,” Clint hissed back, reaching under the bed.  His fingers brushed the cool glass of the bottles and he drew on his magic in case he needed a shield spell.  He barely spared Jasper a glance as the little imp ducked behind his neck, his little purple hands gripping Clint’s hair.  It was about all Jasper could actually hold on to.  Clint should probably have worn more than purple boxer-briefs to bed last night.

The daemon lurched into sight in the bedroom’s doorway, and Jasper squeaked, darting up to hide in Clint’s hair.  Clint didn’t blame him.  Daemons were notoriously cruel to their imp cousins if they were ever caught.  “Ha!  Found you, little magic man,” the daemon bellowed.

“Not for long,” Clint muttered.

Pulling back his hand, Clint threw one of the potions straight at the daemon.  The daemon’s face morphed into an almost comical expression of surprise.  A heartbeat later, the potion bottle slammed into his chest and shattered.  The swirling purple liquid spread across the daemon’s red skin, glowing faintly as the first part of the spell kicked in.  The daemon looked down.  “Uh oh,” it said.  “Bye bye.”

Then, before Clint could throw the second potion to complete the spell, the daemon disappeared from view.  Clint surged to his feet, ready to follow, and heard the remains of his front door splinter as the daemon crashed through it for the second time.  Clint blinked as he skidded to a stop.  This was going to be hard to explain to the neighbours.

Thankfully, most of the tenants in the building were involved with magic one way or another.  And most of them considered it a good thing that a wizard now owned the building.  Particularly after the last guy -- or rather, _vampire_.  Even if Clint never collected rent on time.  Hopefully that forgiveness extended to daemons careening through the corridors.

“You know, we really have to find a way to simplify that banishing spell,” Clint said.  He sighed as he glanced around the disaster area that had once been his living room.

Jasper slid far enough out from his hiding place in Clint’s hair to look around himself.  “We really do, Boss,” he agreed.  “If only to save your poor attempts at housekeeping.”

Clint rolled his eyes.  He needed boots, jeans and a new front door, although not necessarily in that order.  “I should get dressed so we can track that daemon,” he said.  Who knew what kind of malicious destruction the daemon would cause if he didn’t.  “How hard can it be?”

“Famous last words,” Jasper told him.

~*~

Clint should have listened to Jasper.  Sixteen hours later, all Clint had was a desperate need of coffee.  He was still one daemon short of a daemon banishment.  Dawn had come and gone, but it was still early enough that the streets were mostly empty.  Clint’s eyes burned with exhaustion.  The lingering traces of adrenaline were only barely keeping him upright.  “Seriously,” he muttered.  “Where the hell did that daemon go?”

Jasper didn’t reply, because he’d fallen asleep about an hour ago.  The imp was currently nestled between the collar of Clint’s leather jacket and his neck.  He made a faint snoring sound that seemed to rumble through his entire little body, his wings twitching as he dreamed.  It was actually kind of adorable.

Fighting a yawn, Clint he wasn’t going to find the daemon by wandering the city half asleep.  He turned vaguely towards his apartment, except his feet somehow took him to _Bean There, Done That_ instead.  Phil was only just opening up, but when he caught Clint loitering outside, he sent Clint a smile and waved him inside.  Phil looked _good_ , although Clint pretty much always thought Phil looked good.  This morning, Phil wore a dark blue button-up over jeans, a brown leather jacket over the top in deference to the chill still in the air.  He wore his thick, black-framed glasses too, and Clint kind of wanted to curl himself around Phil for a few hours.

“Hi,” Phil greeted when Clint finally stopped staring and pushed open the door.

“Hey, Phil,” he replied, his voice gravelly.

Phil looked him up and down, his eyebrows climbing.  Sadly, Clint was pretty sure Phil didn’t mean it in a sexy way.  In fact, Clint couldn’t even remember if he’d pulled on clean jeans after finding a friend to come in and fix his door.

“Rough night?” Phil asked with just the right amount of understanding and empathy.

Giving into the impulse, Clint walked over and dropped his head onto Phil’s shoulder.  He sighed happily when Phil’s arms automatically wrapped around him in a hug.  “You have no idea,” Clint said, turning his face into Phil’s neck and breathing in the scent of Phil’s aftershave mixed with leather.

Phil pressed a kiss to Clint’s temple.  “Want an extra large coffee?  I don’t have any of your favourite muffins, but I do have some homemade donuts if you’d like to try some?  They should still be warm,” he offered.

Clint groaned.  Phil was a _perfect_ human being.  “Gods, yes,” he replied.  “Please.”

With a soft chuckle, Phil moved to step back, and Clint grumbled wordlessly.  “Clint,” Phil told him softly.  “If you want coffee, you’re going to have to let me go.”

“Fine,” Clint conceded grumpily, tilting his head back as he relinquished his grip grudgingly.

He got a kiss for his trouble, and Clint hummed happily, fisting a hand in Phil’s shirt and pulling him back in for a longer one.  When Clint finally let Phil pull back, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes dark.  Smiling, Phil shook his head.  “You’re determined to be a temptation, aren’t you?” he said.

Clint gave Phil his best ‘who, me?’ look as Phil headed for the coffee machine.  Clint watched Phil work, slumping against the counter as he followed Phil’s deft hands.  Blinking open eyes he wasn’t even sure he’d shut when Phil called his name, Clint found Phil holding out a large cup.  Clint fell on the coffee like a ravenous man, groaning as he took a mouthful of the hot, delicious life-giving ambrosia.  “Thank you,” he said.  “You are a Prince among men, Phil.”

Shaking his head, Phil chuckled.  “I’ll go get you those donuts,” he said.

As Phil ducked into the back, Clint dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small bag of herbs.  Adding a pinch to his coffee, he watched the liquid glow briefly as the magic kicked in.  It wasn’t a big spell, but hopefully the herbs would help Clint stay awake for a little bit longer.  Phil came back out a few minutes later with two donuts in a bag, and Clint couldn’t resist the urge to stuff one in his face.  He was _hungry_.  Probably because he hadn’t eaten since before the daemon crashed through his front door, which was… a long time ago now.  Oops?

When he finally glanced up, Phil was watching him with obvious amusement, sipping from his own cup of coffee.  “I’ll see you tonight, right?” Phil said when he saw that he had Clint’s attention again.

Clint blinked.  “Tonight?” he echoed.

Phil smiled fondly, but there was a question in his eyes.  “For dinner?”

“Right, dinner, yeah,” Clint said, nodding.  He had absolutely not forgotten about his and Phil’s date.  Nope.  “Today’s not Thursday, is it?”

Phil’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled fondly at Clint.  “No, it’s Friday,” he said.  “But don’t worry.  I don’t think you missed anything important.”

“Well, that’s good,” Clint said, and drank some more coffee before he said anything else stupid.

The comfortable quiet of the coffeeshop was suddenly broken by Skye rushing in, her hair flying.  “Sorry, Coulson!  I kinda slept through my alarm, but…”  She trailed off as she caught sight of Clint slumped over the counter and Phil leaning in close.  “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Clint decided to ignore Skye’s faintly disturbing eyebrow wiggle in favour of drinking more coffee.

“Don’t pay her any attention,” Phil said, although the tips of his ears turned pink.  “I’m sure she has to put her things in the back room anyway.”

Skye rolled her eyes, but scampered off anyway.  Clint watched her go and turned guiltily back to Phil.  “I should probably go too,” he said.

Jasper was starting to wake up and the collar of Clint’s jacket wasn’t exactly the best hiding place.  As much as Clint wanted to confess everything to Phil, he also didn’t want to scare Phil away with his weirdness.  Plus, there were the Council’s stupid rules to worry about.

Phil nodded.  “Just don’t work too hard on the case you’re chasing,” he told Clint.  “You need to sleep and take care of yourself, Clint.”

Clint’s chest warmed the way it always did when Phil worried about him.  “Don’t worry, I’ve totally scheduled myself a nap,” he said, pasting a smirk on his face.  And he would nap, just as soon as he’d caught and banished that daemon.

Arching an eyebrow, Phil studied him before apparently deciding to take Clint’s word.  “Be careful,” he said, leaning the rest of the way over the counter to press a kiss to Clint’s lips.  “I’ll see you tonight.  At seven.”

Clint nodded.  Seven.  Phil.  Dinner.  “Got it,” he said.

Grabbing his coffee and the remains of his donuts, Clint started backing up towards the door.  He wasn’t willing to lose sight of Phil’s smiling face just yet.  He caught himself on a table when he tripped over a chair, barely managing not to spill his coffee.  Phil pressed his lips together in a vain attempt not to laugh, but he looked so breathtakingly happy, Clint couldn’t begrudge him.  “I’m gonna, you know,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“Bye, Clint,” Phil replied, laughter clear in his voice.

Clint waved and fled before he could do anymore damage to his dignity.

~*~

Clint managed to walk a few feet before Jasper yawned and stretched.  “Did you get anything for me while you were visiting your knight in shining armour?” he asked.

Rolling his eyes, Clint passed him a piece of donut and Jasper grabbed it with a soft squeal of delight.  Cheeks bulging like a hamster’s, Jasper was silent for a full minute as he chewed happily.  “So…any luck finding the daemon?”

Clint shot him an unimpressed glare.  “Does it look like I had any luck?” he asked.

Jasper pondered that for a minute.  “I guess not.  I did expect more running and screaming if you found it,” he replied.

Scowling, Clint huffed.  “Keep up the funny stuff and I’ll make sure every cake that enters the house tastes like brussel sprouts,” he threatened.

Jasper gave him a horrified look.  “You know, there’s not need to go all evil.  I was just asking,” he grumbled.

Clint sighed.  “Sorry, Jas,” he said.  He rubbed a hand over his face.  “I can’t find a trace of the daemon anywhere.  It’s making me cranky.  The damned thing has a lair somewhere.  Or at least, whoever summoned it does.  Either way, I can’t find it.”

“Well, at least it’s not back at the apartment,” Jasper said.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Clint gaped.  Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner?  “Fuck me,” he said.  “The daemon _is_ back at the apartment.  That’s the only thing that makes sense!”

“What are you talking about?” Jasper said.

“The daemon is trying to kill me, right?” Clint said, immediately turning and headed for his apartment building at a run.  “When it can’t find me, where do you think it’s going to go?”

Jasper grabbed onto Clint’s collar, his piece of donut still in his other hand.  “But it ran away from us!  Why would it go back?” he said.

“Because,” Clint said, digging out the second banishment potion, this one a swirling green.  “It’s got orders.  It’ll forget about my attempt to banish it as soon those orders are reinforced.  Then it’ll come back to the only place it knows I’ll be.”

He skidded to a halt a block away from his building and winced when he saw the outer door was hanging half off it’s hinges.  Carefully, Clint jogged over, peering inside in case the daemon was lying in wait, but the corridor beyond was empty.  Avoiding the elevator, Clint raced up the stairs towards his apartment.  His front door had been smashed apart again, and Clint winced.  Luke was going to kill him when he asked for another favour.

The menacing waves of malevolent violence coming from inside Clint’s apartment proved the daemon was back.  Daemons were simple creatures.  They followed the orders they were given and rarely thought for themselves.  By that logic, the daemon had returned to the place it had been ordered to go to wait for its prey to return.  Just like Clint had predicted.

Stepping carefully past the splintered remains of the door, Clint crept into the living room, potion held at the ready.  He raised both eyebrows when he found the daemon sitting in the middle of the floor, eyes closed as it waited.  Sensing his arrival, the daemon snapped open yellow eyes.  “Ah, little magic man come back!” it crowed.  “Now me can eat you.”

“We’ve been over this,” Clint said, throwing the second potion as hard as he could.  It flew through the air and smashed all over the daemon’s chest.  “You’re not going to eat me.”

Drawing on his magic, Clint sucked in a deep breath.  “I banish thee, daemon, back to whence thou came,” he intoned before he sent his magic spinning towards the daemon.

The daemon disappeared with a shocked expression and a faint pop, and Clint sighed in relief.  On his shoulder, Jasper gave a loud cheer, waving his piece of donut like a flag.  Sagging suddenly with exhaustion, Clint gave the imp a tired smile.  “Thanks, Jas,” he said.  Surveying his living room and re-destroyed door, he ran a hand over his face.  “Gods, I just want to sleep.”

“Sleep is a good plan,” Jasper agreed, “but you should probably fix the door first.  And maybe re-do the wards in case something else nasty comes knocking.”

Clint grimaced.  Knowing his luck, there was a large chance that might just happen.  “Ugh,” he grunted.  Digging out his phone, he called Luke to beg for another favour, because if anyone could repair his door it was Luke Cage.  Plus, Clint didn’t mind being in Luke’s debt, which wasn’t something he could say about a lot of his acquaintances.  That done, Clint sent as much magic as he could to strengthen the wards left on his door, vowing to re-do them properly once he’d had a little sleep.  Then he staggered the several feet to his bedroom and fell face down on the bed.  He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

~*~

Clint groaned, the shrill sound of his phone ringing filtering through his exhausted brain.  Stubbornly keeping his eyes shut, he fumbled for the bedside table, only to remember he was still wearing his jeans.  Grunting, he dug his phone out of his pocket instead.  “‘lo?” he mumbled.

“Clint,” Nick Fury greeted him.  Clint had always thought Nick’s voice sounded like the crackling of a fire, and today that seemed especially true.

“Are you going to let me in?” Nick asked when Clint didn’t say anything else.

“Let yourself in,” Clint grumbled and hung up the phone.  A locked door and strong wards had never stopped Nick before, but Clint did shudder when he felt Nick cross the threshold.

“Should I be worried?” Nick asked, suddenly sounding a lot closer.  “Your door looks like something big and mean broke it in, and your wards have been blasted.”

Clint cracked open an eye, squinting up to find Nick leaning against the wall just inside his bedroom, his arms crossed over his chest.  Clint sighed.  “It was the daemon,” he said, pushing himself up on his elbows so his face wasn’t mashed into the pillow.  “It was waiting for me in my living room, but I vanquished it, so it’s gone.”

Both Nick’s eyebrows rose.  “The _daemon_ is what came through your door?” he said.

Yawning, Clint nodded.  He wiped a hand across his chin, and decided that if he was awake, he might as well take off his jacket and boots before he fell asleep again.  “I was going to call you and tell you, but…”  He waved a hand helplessly towards the bed.

Nick shook his head, smiling.  “You came home and passed out before you could get to it,” he finished for Clint.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed.  “It’s been a long ass week, okay?”

For a minute, Nick looked like he wanted to insist on having one of his minions keep an eye on Clint, but he gave in with a sigh.  “I’ll order pizza and you can tell me all about it,” he said.

“I’d rather sleep for a week,” Clint muttered, but his heart wasn’t really in it.  He hadn’t hung out with Nick lately for one reason or another and pizza sounded good.  “Yeah, okay.  Just let me grab a shower first.”

Ten minutes later, Clint climbed out of the shower and slung a towel around his waist.  He poked his head out into the living room, frowning when he found it suspiciously clean.  Nick was sprawled across a black leather couch Clint had never seen before in his life.  “How did you clean and redecorate in _ten minutes_?” he asked Nick, pointing a finger in the dragon’s direction.  Nick just smirked, and Clint waved away the question.  “Nevermind.”

He stumbled into the kitchen, spotting Jasper snoring away on the table, curled up on his favourite cushion.  The imp blinked awake when Clint flipped on the coffee machine, and scowled.  “Boss, what have I said before about wearing pants?” Jasper grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint replied, but retreated to his bedroom to pull on a pair of jeans all the same.

Walking back into the kitchen to pour himself and Nick a cup of coffee, he smiled as Jasper blinked determinedly and bite back a yawn.  “I saved a piece of cake for dinner,” he said, walking over so he could scritch Jasper under the chin.

Jasper’s eyes went wide.  “Cake?” he replied.

Clint grinned back.  “Cake.”

“Boss, you’re awesome,” Jasper said with a happy sigh.

Laughing, Clint pulled the cake out of the fridge for Jasper to consume at his leisure, and walked over to grab the coffee.  As he did, he heard a knock at the door and frowned, glancing at the clock.  “Is the pizza here already?” he called out to Nick, because Nick usually waited for him before they ordered.

“No, it’s not the pizza,” Nick replied, and Clint heard him get up off the couch just as the time on the clock registered in Clint’s brain.

_Shit_.

Cursing, he raced out of the kitchen.  “No, wait, Nick don’t…” he said, but it was too late.

Helplessly, Clint watched as Nick opened the door.  A growing sense of horror rose up from his stomach to strangle him, as everything seemed to slide into slow motion.  Phil blinked at him from the doorway, clearly turning up for the date Clint had promised not to forgot _but had forgotten anyway_.  Jasper, disturbed by the way Clint had bolted out of the kitchen, fluttered out behind him.  Clint spotted the exact moment Phil caught sight of the imp.  Wide-eyed, Clint glanced between Phil and Jasper before turning to stare at Nick.  “Umm, I can explain?” he said, hoping this wasn’t the point where everything came crashing down around his ears.

Phil blinked.  Then he glanced at Nick.  “Marcus?” he said.

_What the hell?_

Nick, eyebrows raised and his eye wide, looked between Phil and Clint.  Clint wanted to give into the hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat, but he had a feeling that if he started he just wouldn’t stop.

“Breathe, Clint,” Phil’s soft voice instructed, and Clint sucked in a shuddering lungful of air.

“I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be saying that to you,” he rasped, looking up into Phil’s concerned blue eyes.  When, exactly, Phil had crossed from the doorway to standing in front of Clint, Clint hadn’t seen.

Phil smiled softly, but there was a twist to it Clint didn’t know how to read.  “You might still have to,” he said dryly.  His gaze flickered downwards.  “Although, I have to admit your current lack of wardrobe is helping keep me distracted.”

Clint glanced down and grimaced.  He’d barely buttoned his jeans, let alone pulled on a shirt.  So much for dressing to impress, or whatever shit those reality TV shows were spouting this week.  “Ah,” he said, his cheeks heating.  “Guess it’s too late to insist I’m not a hot mess, huh?”

He looked back up at Phil, only to find Phil watching him with darkening blue eyes.  “You’re definitely hot,” he agreed, the hint of a smirk curving his lips.

Fluttering over, Jasper broke the moment when he settled on Clint’s shoulder.  Bowing formally, he kept his eyes narrowed and on Phil.  “My name is Jasper, official familiar to the Wizard Barton,” he said.

Phil blinked, his eyes widening again.  “Ah, hi,” he said.  “It’s nice to finally meet you.  Clint talks about you a lot.  Although, um, he didn’t mention you were an…?”

“Imp,” Clint supplied, starting to feel a little light-headed at the surreality of the moment.

“Clint talks about me?” Jasper asked, perking up considerably.  “Aww, Boss, that’s sweet.”

“And, uh, this is Nick,” Clint said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.  “He’s…”  This was the part Clint was never sure about, because Nick was a lot of things to him, but none of them were easy to use for introductions.

“You know how I once told you I sort of adopted a kid, Cheese?” Nick interrupted, but he was looking at Phil, not Clint.  “This is him.”

Clint blinked, mouthing ‘Cheese’ to himself.  “Um, what?” he said.  “You two know each other?”

“Ah…” Phil said.  He looked over at Nick.

Clint narrowed his eyes.  “And while we’re talking about it, how come you’re not freaking out?” he asked.  “Most normal humans run screaming when they see a flying purple imp.  Why didn’t you?”

To his surprise, Nick grimaced.  “I might have a little explaining of my own to do, too,” he said.

Clint blinked.  “Huh?”

“I’d like it if someone did,” Phil said calmly.  When Clint glanced over at him again, he offered Clint a small smile.

“Phil already knows about magic,” Nick said, watching Clint with a dark, steady gaze.  

“How?” Clint demanded.

“It was during my time in the Army,” Nick explained quietly.  “While you were going through that rebellious phase and didn’t want to hang around anymore, and I had Hand watch over my territory for a decade.”  He smiled wryly.  “I got recruited to the Rangers, and I met a sarcastic bastard named Phil.  We made a good team, so the brass started sending us to all the dangerous hotspots.  Only, one mission, we got in a firefight and I got hit.  A mortal wound if I’d stayed human, so I… changed.  I didn’t think anyone was watching apart from the bad guys, but it turns out Phil doesn’t like leaving friends behind and he saw the whole thing.”

Clint’s heart gave a solid, painful thump against his ribs, his thoughts spinning out in a million different directions.  He swallowed heavily.  “You and Phil were in the Rangers together,” he repeated.  He felt kind of numb after all the shocks, because this wasn’t ever how he’d imagined Phil finding out.  Admittedly, he’d always thought there’d be more yelling.  Not the revelation of a friendship between his boyfriend and his pseudo-father figure.  “And Phil saw you turn into a giant fire-breathing dragon?”

Nick nodded.

Clint turned to Phil.  “ _Nick_ is the old Ranger buddy who checks up on you?” he said, although that made a certain kind of sense.  Clint might tease Nick a lot, but he did hoard people as much as riches.

“He is,” Phil agreed.  “Although, I know him as Marcus Johnson, not Nick.”  He shot a dry look at Nick.  “I assume you’re going to explain that at some point?”

Nick smiled.  “Sure,” he said.

Jasper, still sitting on Clint’s shoulder, reached up to pat Clint’s neck.  Clint reached up absently to scritch Jasper between his wings, making Jasper twitch happily.  “At least think of it this way, Boss,” Jasper told him.  “Turns out we don’t need a loophole in the Council’s laws after all.”

Glancing between Clint and Phil, Nick sighed.  “Come on, Jasper.  Let’s go see if the coffee’s ready.”

As Jasper fluttered over to Nick’s outstretched hand, Phil stepped over to Clint a little hesitantly.  “In all the chaos, I’m not sure I said hello,” he said, and Clint was slammed with a wave of love so hard he lost his breath.  Clint was self-aware enough to realize he’d been falling for Phil for a long time, but this evening had pushed him over the precipice.  This time, just maybe, he wasn’t going to hit something hard and shatter.  There was still a lot to talk about -- Phil hadn’t even seen half the craziness in Clint’s life -- but Phil was still _there_.  Watching Clint with that kind, fond look that crinkled the corners of his eyes.  

Helpless to resist the urge, Clint stepped forward and pulled Phil into a tight hug.  He was squeezing Phil too hard, and this close, he couldn’t hide the way he was shaking, but Phil had _stayed_ even after coming face to face with an _imp_.  “Hey,” Phil said softly, his broad, strong hand stroking soothingly down Clint’s back.  “It’s okay.”

Clint took a shaky breath, and buried his face in Phil’s neck.  “It’s been a hell of a week, and I’m just glad you’re here,” he said.

Phil’s arm tightened around Clint’s waist.  “I’m glad I’m here too,” he said.  “And Clint?  I’m here to stay, okay?  Whatever you tell me, however magic is involved in your life, you’re worth it.  I’m not letting go.”  He huffed out a breath.  “Although, I can’t promise that I won’t need time to wrap my head around the whole magic part.  Saying that out loud feels weird, even after what I know about Marcus.”

Clint breathed out a tension he hadn’t even been aware of, his shoulders relaxing.  “Yeah, okay,” he said.  “But just so you know, I’m not letting go of you, either.”

“You two are depressingly perfect for each other,” Nick drawled.

Clint pulled far enough away from Phil to glare at him.  Nick smirked back, lifting a mug.  “Coffee’s getting cold.”

“I thought you weren’t anyone’s matchmaker?” Clint said archly, scowling when he saw Nick hadn’t brought coffee for anyone else.

“He did!” Jasper, now sitting on the bookshelf, piped up in solidarity.  “I remember that conversation.”

Nick glared.  “Wanting to see you settled and happy is different from being a matchmaker,” he countered.

“Well, before you start haggling over the number of cows for my dowry,” Phil broke in dryly.  “How about you be a good friend, Marcus, and share the coffee?”

Nick rolled his eye, fighting a smile.  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

“You should be grateful I didn’t make a terrible dragon related pun,” Phil told him, and Clint snorted.

Nick rolled his eye, and drained his coffee cup.  “I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece, Clint,” he said.  “But I’m going to leave you three to discuss this.”  He flashed Clint a sharp-edged grin.  “Oh, and Clint?  If the Council gets cranky about a human knowing about you, tell them I told Phil everything.”

“Yeah, sure,” Clint said, still trying to wrap his thoughts around everything that had happened.

Nick sent him a smirk and a wave.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he called out as he left.

Clint blushed and scowled, because way to make this more awkward, Nick.

“I can leave too, if you want some space?” Phil offered quietly.

“No!”  The word came out too sharp if Clint wanted to play it cool, and it wasn’t helped by the way Clint had immediately grabbed Phil’s arm.  “I mean, unless you want to go?  Do you need space to get used to… this?”

Phil’s smile deepened, the hesitance leaving his face.  “No, I think I’m right where I want to be,” he said.

“Okay.  Good.”  Warmth was spreading through Clint’s chest again.  “I’m just going to go put on a shirt?  I’ll be right back.”

Jasper rolled his eyes.  “I got this, Boss,” he said, fluttering towards Phil. “It might have been a while, but I remember how to play host.”  He glanced at Phil.  “Clint doesn’t really formerly entertain.”

Clint glanced between Phil and Jasper.  Leaving them both alone was probably going to come back bite him in the ass, but maybe not in the way he’d first imagined.  Pasting a smile on his face, Clint retreated to his bedroom.  He needed a minute.  “Fuck,” he breathed.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Clint grabbed his phone and dialled a familiar number.  Thankfully, Natasha picked up on the second ring.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.  “Do you need back up?”

Clint blinked, and then winced.  He’d called Natasha last night to warn her about the daemon in case it came after her too.  “Um, no, I’m fine.  I found the daemon and vanquished it,” he said.

Natasha blew out a sigh.  “And both you and Jasper are okay?” she said.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Clint assured her.  “I’m kind of calling about something else.”

The beat of silence on the other end of the phone was ominous.  “I swear, Barton, you’d better not be calling me for advice on what to wear on a date,” Natasha growled.

Clint winced.  “I’m not,” he said hurriedly.  “But it is kind of about Phil.”

Natasha sighed.  “What did you do?” she asked.

Not even bothering to protest that it wasn’t his fault, Clint grimaced.  “Phil turned up for our date, but with the whole daemon mess, I lost track of time, so Nick answered the door, and then Jasper flew in,” he said in a rush.  “But it doesn’t matter because Phil sort of already knew about magic anyway?”

There was another beat of silence.  “Clint,” Natasha said.  “Maybe start at the beginning?”

“Okay.”  Clint sucked in a deep breath, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was pounding.  Then he started explaining, filling Natasha in on how Nick had joined the Army, met Phil in the Rangers, and how Phil had learned Nick was a dragon.

“Does Phil know you’re a wizard?” Natasha asked.

“Sort of?” Clint replied.  “Jasper said it, but I’m not sure Phil knows what it means.  I’m going to tell him, though.  I mean, I can now.  The Council can’t object if he already knows about magic.”

“Which is why you’re hiding in your bedroom talking to me?” Natasha said.

“I’m not…” Clint spluttered, even though he really was.  “Yeah, okay.  Although, I also need a shirt.”

Natasha snorted.  “I’m not even going to ask,” she said, a trace of amusement in her voice.  Then she sobered.  “You don’t need to worry so much, you know.  Phil’s not going to leave.”

“Are you sure about that?” Clint asked, swallowing down bitter memories.

“Please,” Natasha said.  “If your bruises and inability to utter a complete sentence without falling over a chair haven’t scared him off yet, what’s a little magic?”

“Thanks,” Clint said dryly.  “I just…  I think I kind of had a moment.  Earlier.”

“A moment,” Natasha said flatly.

Clint walked over to his bed and flopped down on it, staring up at the ceiling.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “Like a kind of ‘oh shit, I think I’m actually in love with Phil’ moment.”

“Oh, baby bird,” Natasha said, pulling out the old nickname she hadn’t used in years.  “I could have told you that weeks ago.”

Clint scowled.  “I’m serious, Nat,” he grumbled.

Natasha snorted again.  “So am I,” she replied.  “After three-hundred years, I can spot when two people are falling in love.  Trust me, you and Phil are showing all the signs.”

“Yeah?” Clint said, unable to stop the way he sounded so unbearably hopeful.

“Yes, Clint,” Natasha said.  “Now why don’t you put on a shirt and actually go out and talk to Phil?  I’m pretty sure leaving him alone with either Nick or Jasper can only mean bad things at this point.”

Clint blinked.  “Good point,” he said.  “I’m going to go put on that shirt now.  And Nat?  Thanks.”

~*~

When Clint finally stumbled back out of his bedroom, he found Phil and Jasper in the kitchen.  Phil was leaning up against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee and watching as Jasper.  The imp, meanwhile, was either conquered his piece of cake in the name of magic, or was possibly at war with it.  The cake no longer resembled the intact piece Clint had left, but was sort of… squished.  And piled on top of itself.  With Jasper standing triumphantly in the middle.

“Hey, Boss,” Jasper greeted merrily, icing smeared across one wing.  “We were beginning to think you somehow got lost in your closet.”

Phil sent Jasper a reproachful look, but there was a fond smile curving his mouth.  “Actually,” he said, glancing over at Clint.  “I was wondering if you’d prefer to stay in for dinner?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, rubbing the back of his neck again.  “I’d, uh, love that, but I’m not sure I have anything in the fridge?”  He wasn’t actually that much of a cook either, but telling Phil he lived mostly off Phil’s muffins and pizza probably wasn’t a good idea.

Phil smiled.  “You do actually.  Your fridge has been filled with vegetables by a benevolent…  Well, I was going to say fairy, but that actually might be true?”

Clint blinked.  Shit.  Phil wasn’t real.  No one took learning about magic this well.  At least, no human ever had.  “Um, no.  No benevolent faeries.  Most of them are Grade A dicks.  Also, not tiny like the Disney version.”  He swallowed, almost biting his tongue in his efforts to stop babbling.  “I think the vegetables are just Luke?  He’s the building’s super.”  Mostly because Luke could actually fix lightbulbs and do actual carpentry.  Clint just solved any magical problems.  “He worries?”

Phil quirked an eyebrow, nodding.  “I can understand the worry part,” he said dryly.  Pouring a cup of coffee, he stepped forward to press the cup into Clint’s hands.  His touch lingered, and Clint shivered, wanting to lean into it.  “You can go sit down if you like,” Phil added.

“No, I…  Maybe I’ll just have a quick word with Jasper?” Clint said.

Phil smiled.  “Take your time,” he replied.

Clint retreated over to the couch -- which was now purple and not-leather, thank you, Nick -- with his cup of coffee.  He gestured for Jasper to join him, but it took about thirty seconds of exaggerated flailing and increasing level of death stares before Jasper got the message.  “What are you doing over here, Boss?” Jasper asked after he’d fluttered over.  “Your boyfriend’s in the kitchen cooking for you, and I’d thought you’d be all over that.”

Clint sucked in a deep breath.  “Does Phil seem like he’s taking this too well?  The whole magic thing?” he said.

“Nah,” Jasper replied.  “You didn’t see him earlier.”  At Clint’s questioning look, Jasper shrugged.  “He went all pale and shaky for a minute.  I thought he might have to stick his head between his knees.”

“He did not,” Clint said, because that sounded more like something Clint would do.  “Did he?”

Jasper nodded.  “Although, I think some of the panic was because he thought all your bruises came from magical creatures trying to eat you.  Which is only half true.”  Jasper bit his lip and fluttered a little closer.  “I also might have told him _aboutthedaemon_.”

Clint winced.  “It’s okay, Jas,” he said.  “I wasn’t going to keep that a secret.”

Sighing, he held out a palm so Jasper could settle into it before heading back to the kitchen.  Jasper abandoned him almost immediately for cake, but Clint only had eyes for Phil, anyway.  Phil, who was concentrating _really_ hard on cutting up vegetables into very precisely sized pieces.  Clint blinked, suddenly feeling like an idiot.   _Of course_ Phil was kind of freaked out.  He just freaked out in a controlled way rather than Clint’s messier flailing.

“Is this the part where I should be telling _you_ to take a deep breath?” Clint said softly, settling against the counter where Phil could see him.

Phil set the knife down and closed his eyes.  “Sorry,” he said.

“Hey, no Phil,” Clint said, stepping closer.  “You’re allowed to freak out or whatever about this.”

Phil grimaced, glancing over at Clint.  “I just feel like it shouldn’t be such a shock that you’re a…”

“Wizard?” Clint supplied helpfully.

“Yeah.”  Phil sighed.  “I mean, I already knew about magic.”

Clint took another step forward.  “Knowing about magic and seeing it in front of you are two different things,” he said.  “Trust me.”

Phil shifted so he could face Clint.  “In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably tell you that I sort of adopted two pixies a little over a week ago,” he said.  “So I probably see magic more often than a normal guy.”

Clint wanted to say something witty, but all he could think of what how pixies would explain the delicate new wards on Phil’s door.  “You know, usually I’m the one that finds and takes home strays,” he said, the words coming out of his mouth without much thought.

Phil huffed out a laugh.  “Why am I not surprised?” he said.

Crossing right into Phil’s personal space, Clint smiled and nudged his shoulder.  “For the record, you’re also allowed to have ‘what the fuck?’ moments.  I have them all the time.”

Pressing his shoulder into Clint’s, Phil leaned against Clint for a minute.  Clint carefully brought up a hand to rest on Phil’s back, unable to resist scritching his fingers on Phil’s soft sweater.  “So, what are you cooking?” Clint asked.

“Just a stir-fry,” Phil replied.  “It’s nothing fancy, but at least this way I’ll know you’ve eaten a vegetable this week.”

Clint fought a grin, ridiculously happy that Phil had his number.  Phil had found out that Clint was a wizard, but he still worried that Clint didn’t eat enough green things.  “I’m really glad you found out, you know,” Clint said.  Then he winced, because that sounded back.  “Not that I didn’t want to tell you earlier, too?  It’s just that wizards kind of answer to the White Council.  And one of the Council’s rules is ‘thou shalt not tell the puny humans anything because they might freak out and kill us’.  The Council are kind of asses.”

Phil smiled, abandoning the vegetables to pull Clint into a hug.  Clint melted into Phil’s solid chest with a happy sigh.  “I’m glad I found out too,” Phil said softly, his lips brushing Clint’s ear.  Clint shivered.  “Although, I also feel like knowing you’re a wizard is going to make me worry about you more.”

Clint pulled back slightly to frown at Phil.  “Sorry?” he said.

“No, don’t,” Phil replied, reaching out to cup Clint’s jaw.  “You can’t change who you are, Clint.  I only worry so much because I don’t want to lose you.”

His throat suddenly thick, Clint wasn’t sure he had any words to reply.  Warmth spread out through Clint’s chest, his stomach giving a slow flip as he stared into Phil’s blue eyes.  Leaning in, he kissed Phil, because that was the only thing he could do.  He gasped a little when Phil wound his arm around Clint’s waist, pulling him closer.  The heat of Phil sank through Clint’s shirt from where Phil’s solid chest was pressed against his.  Clint retaliated by sliding his hand underneath Phil’s sweater and t-shirt, smiling at the way Phil shivered.

When he finally pulled back, Clint took a shuddering breath, because the kiss had snatched all the air from his lungs.  Phil’s smile was soft and fond, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his cheeks pink.  Clint’s heart thumped heavily in his chest.  “I don’t want to lose you either,” he whispered.

“As long as I have any say in the matter, Clint, you won’t,” Phil said.

Clint smiled.

 

 


End file.
